


The Mines

by animefreak



Category: Mortal Kombat Conquest
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:14:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animefreak/pseuds/animefreak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A thousand years has passed since Shao Kahn took EarthRealm and captured his half brother Rayden, Lord of Thunder. Now an immortal has entered the mix and something may be done to right the wrongs of a millenia ago. Complete</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

time: twenty minutes into the future  
place: OutWorld  
rating: NC17 - at least.  
plot: oh yes -- hum, a fallen Rayden gets redeemed -- on an alternate earth. explicit sex scenes from time to time.

 

The Mines  
Chapter One

He sat on the bottom step of the stairs leading to the throne, as he always did when Shao Kahn wanted to exhibit new acquisitions. He sat, head bowed,waiting. It was a charade they played again and again and again. It was a game he always lost.

"OK. I have had it! Enough. Hands off! Now." The voice was commanding and annoying without being strident. 

He fought a desire to look up, to see what she looked like. Two thumps, solid hits. He took a shaky breath and forced himself to keep his head down. He heard the sound of two hands slapping together in the age old "dusting off" sound. He chanced a look from under the fringe of hair that partially obscured his face. Two robe shrouded figures were on their knees on the floor apparently having some problems breathing. A pair of long, slender black clad legs stood between them, feet slightly apart, apparently relaxed.

"You dare." Shao Kahn's sepulchral tones had deepened over the centuries. He was annoyed.

The legs moved past the man in the dingy gray robes. She took the stairs two at a time until she stood before the still lounging Shao Kahn. Green, green eyes set in a narrow oval face regarded the ruler of OutWorld with a really unimpressed look. She shook long silken black hair back out of her face and cocked one finely arched black brow upward in inquiry.

"And you are?" she asked. Insouciant. That was a good word. Didn't she know it would get her hurt, perhaps killed.

Shao Kahn fingered a dagger that lay on his thigh. It was an exquisitely made piece of metal, razor sharp, the hilt of precious metal worked with jewels. His hand clenched around the hilt. He stood. It was a smooth movement, his powerful legs pushing him upright. He towered over the woman. The dagger was in his hand, the point scant inches away from her heart.

"I am Shao Kahn. Emperor of OutWorld. Your Master."

A choke of laughter escaped her. "Yeah. Right."

Shao Kahn was nonplussed by her reaction. He had been vilified, screamed at, cowered from and pleaded with, but he could not recall having ever been so succinctly dismissed. He caught her chin in his hand, his unoccupied hand, and forced her to look up at him. The dagger came to rest just below her breast bone. He stared deep into those twin emerald pools of her eyes. He was surprised to feel her slender hands wrap themselves around the hand holding the dagger.

"OK. Let's get this over with so we can move on."

Something in her voice brought the other man's head around with a snap. His mouth dropped open slightly in protest. What? He was on his feet as she literally pulled hard enough to force Shao Kahn to plunge the dagger into her heart. He took the steps at speed to stop behind her. The least he could do was catch the body as it fell.

Only, it didn't. After a moment, her hands still around Shao Kahn's, she withdrew the dagger. Shao Kahn let it drop as she released his hand. There was a smile curving her lips as she stared into the dark eyes behind the skull mask that hid the upper half of the emperor's face. She sagged back against the other man, then stiffened. Her fingers tightened like a vise around his supporting arm. She gasped, trembled, then relaxed. She grinned at Shao Kahn.

"Immortality has its price," she said softly as she straightened up. 

"And if I remove that lovely head?" The Emperor's eyes burned behind the mask.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Been there. Done that. Took a while to get back together, but what's time to an immortal?"

"Remove her!" Shao Kahn growled.

The two shadow priests had left when they recovered. The other man looked around. There was no one else. He took her arm, gently, almost hesitantly. She looked around at him. He kept his head bowed, not meeting her eyes, and moved to indicate the steps. She went with him.

They left the throne room and moved into the hallways. He led the way,  
although he was beginning to wonder where he was taking her. He realized he had lost her as they walked past a window. He came back to find her just staring at the desolate landscape outside. She looked at him as he stopped beside her.

"Where the Hell are we?"

"OutWorld."

"OutWorld? What is OutWorld?"

For a moment, his dark eyes met hers in astonishment. Who here did not know about OutWorld. His eyes slid away from the directness of her look again. He gestured to indicate the world outside the window. "That is OutWorld. It is the realm ruled by Shao Kahn."

"Realm. Wonderful. So, just exactly where on Earth *is* this "OutWorld" realm thing?"

This time he regarded her in wonder for a longer period. He tired to read the pale, high cheek boned face. She truly did not know where she was and what the relation of OutWorld to EarthRealm was. "Not in EarthRealm. This is -- beyond."

"Beyond?" She seemed to think about this for a long, silent moment. She looked out the window at the desolation outside. "Beyond. OK. So, how do I get back to where I belong?"

"You can't"

The look she gave him was a mixture of "yeah, right" and hostility. "What do you mean, I can't?"

"The only way to get out of OutWorld, is to open a portal between here and the realm you want to go to. You can't open a portal."

"*I* didn't open a portal to get here. Someone else did. One of those  
black robed creeps."

"Well, they're not going to open a portal to let you go back," he pointed out reasonably.

"True. You can't open one?"

"No." 

She regarded him curiously. There was something in that response. He had looked away as he spoke. "OK. So, how does opening a portal work?"

He frowned at her. "I don't understand."

"Theory? How does someone who *can*open a portal get one to open? Mechanics?"

"If you have the power, you open the portal."

"What kind of power?"

He snorted. "The kind priests have -- or gods." There was a world of disgust in his voice on the latter. 

She ignored the little snapping and popping sounds the back of her brain was making in response to his answer. She firmly reminded her *civilized* self that she had taken a vision quest and that she knew people who did extraordinary things that she took in stride on a normal day. "So, we're talking magic."

"Yes," he said slowly. 

She nodded her understanding, a thoughtful look on her face as her gaze drifted to the window again. She moved to lean out the window and look around. It was really discouraging looking. Everything seemed to be in grimy shades of dirt and gray. Most of the buildings she could see were broken shells. Fires burned here and there. "Can we get out there?" she asked suddenly.

He started slightly, looked out the window at the landscape and looked at her with concern. "Why?"

She turned to face him. "Because I want to." There was an intensity about her now that disturbed him. 

His gaze slid away from hers to look out again. He nodded and turned away from the window. "This way," he said so softly she almost didn't catch his response before he started walking. She followed, taking note of the route in case of need.

Finally, they came to a cobweb covered, ornate door. Her guide pulled the cobwebs off and pulled at the door. Nothing. He tried again. Muscles long used for little more than carrying his weight around, protested at the sudden demand. The door refused to budge. She laid a hand on his arm. 

"This hasn't been open for a while. The hinges are probably rusted, or whatever oxidation does to the metal they're made of." She took a good look at the door and realized there was a lock of some sort. She ran the tip of her finger over the opening. It was too small to stick a finger into. She rummaged through her pockets. Nail file. Two computer diskettes. Miniature notebook with nothing written in it. One pen with no ink. One crochet hook. One stick of gum of an indeterminate nature. Hold it. Crochet hook? She looked at the slender piece of metal. Now why was she wandering around with a cotton hook in her pocket? She looked at the hole in the door. It was much larger than the slender hook in her hand. Good.

She inserted the crochet hook and started fishing around for the access to the tumblers that were keeping the door closed. Ah-ha. Not very sophisticated. She gave herself a wry look mentally. Anyplace magic was considered the norm might not need much in the way of sophisticated locking mechanisms of the mechanical sort. There. Click. Click. Ka-clunk. "Try it now."

With much protesting and creaking, the door moved. It took both of them to get it open far enough to slip through. She walked away from the door, her guide trailing behind her trying to keep an eye on her and an eye out for any of Shao Kahn's guards or minions who might object to them being out here.

She walked about a hundred yards from the door and started looking around. She knelt down and poked at the ground. It was rock hard. She rapped on it with her knuckle. Rock hard. "Shit. This stuff is like cement," she grumbled. She stood up, dusting off her hands and looked around. "Nothing like a garden around here anywhere, is there?"

"No."

"Great. The ground is too hard. It'd take a jackhammer to break it up." She turned, surveying everything within sight for some clue, some idea she seemed to be waiting for. She looked into his eyes again. They were dark. Odd. She had thought they were more gray before. "Where were you taking me before we detoured?"

"To the mines." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. It was true, but it wasn't the most politic answer he had ever given.

"Mines. Working mines?"

"Yes."

"OK. Maybe there's something there."

A bitter laugh. "Death, for most."

She studied him as he turned and walked back to the door. There was something so odd about him. Her first impression had been that there was some tension between him and the nutcase with the half skull mask. Yet he had said and done nothing to confirm that view, had taken Shao Kahn's orders and led her out of that really barbaric looking throne room. But he hadn't objected when she demanded to be brought out. Although that could be because he already knew what she would find and that she would choose to do what he was going to do anyway. 

Only that line of reasoning fell apart because he didn't know what she was looking for. Of that she was certain. She noticed that for all his tendency to try to slide away from the awareness of those around him, there was a certain firmness to his walk, a certain underlying dignity. Yet there was a miasma of hopelessness around him also. He seemed to be a bundle of walking contradictions.

After what seemed like a very, very long walk, the walls began to look more like rough hewn stone than finished stone. A little farther, and the stone was much rougher, outcroppings scattered here and there along the walls, the floor until it became obvious that this was part of a cavern network. Shadowy forms moved through the torch lit darkness. It was smoky, ill smelling and a little claustrophobic. Still he led her onward until they reached a large, galleried cavern. Then he stopped.

"This is it?"

He turned to face her. What had she expected? These were the cobalt mines of Shao Kahn. This was where he *lost* those who displeased him. Shang Tsung, the sorcerer/warrior had spent years here after losing Mortal Kombat to Kung Lao. The latter name was like a dagger in his heart still. How long had he been here? A thousand years? Two thousand? Ten? Did it matter. He sat down on a convenient boulder. "What did you expect?"

Instead of answering him, she was running her hands over the nearest wall, the floor next to it, the boulder on which he sat. She frowned, closed her eyes and concentrated. These surfaces were too old, too worn by human hands. She opened her eyes and looked around. She pointed to one of the openings off the main cavern. "Where does that go?"

"That? Farther down."

"Good." She walked over and through the opening. He was suddenly there, a hand on her arm, pulling her around, back into the cavern. She looked at the hand and then up into his eyes. Odd. He looked away again, his hand falling off her arm. "What?"

"It's dangerous."

She laughed. "Right. And taunting Shao Kahn in his throne room wasn't?"

He frowned again, meeting her gaze with a troubled look and then focusing elsewhere again. "Not the same way."

"So?"

"What are you looking for?"

"I'll tell you when I find it." She turned and walked through the opening into the rough walled terrain beyond. 

He stood watching her disappear into the darkness, torn between staying where it was familiar, where he was safe; and finding out what she was looking for. There was something about her that dredged up touches of feeling, of need, of who he had once been. Yet there was something terrifying about her as well. Just as she was about to become invisible in the darkness, he made his decision and walked after her. His stride looked confident as he moved through the tunnel. At least he could look confident.

She moved through the darkness, her eyes adjusting as she moved. She was reaching out with senses that hadn't been used in a long time, since she'd buried Black John. She was searching for a contact. She was looking for evidence of the planetary entity she knew sheltered within each living planet. Hours passed. She touched walls, rocks, outcroppings, and she moved ever deeper into the mines, the shafts, the passage ways.

Some of the denizens had looked upon this intrusion curiously. A few saw a something to fear. More saw only a new slave in Shao Kahn's mines and wondered what she had done to displease the Emperor. A very few saw a meal and were persuaded that this was an error when they saw him following her. All knew him. And even if he was less than he had been, he was even now more than enough to kick ass on anyone down here. She passed them all by as though they were nothing. 

Heat. She became aware of oppressive heat, dry heat. She touched the walls. They were warm to the touch. She could smell the acidic, metallic, sulphur smell of volcanism at work. She was very close to a vein of molten rock, very close to a part of the core of this world. She stripped off her jacket. Sweat darkened the back and sides of her sleeveless shirt. She laid her hands against the sharp angles of the stone and reached out. Yes. There. She could feel the life-force of the planet pulsing around her. Her breathing roughened, deepened as she tried to coax it toward her, to her. The heat pulsed in the rocks, in her fingers, along her arms as she moved slowly around the walls of the chamber.

He moved behind her, watching, wondering. She looked like she was in the throes of -- of either a mystic experience or something very basic. Sweat gave her pale skin a shimmer in the oddly red light. She backed into him. Instinctively, his arms folded around her, his hands. For a moment he froze as his hands came to rest against two soft, firm mounds of thin fabric covered flesh. Her nipples were hard under his hands. His own breath caught in his throat.

Then she moved against him, her ass pressing against his groin, her back arching so that her shoulders were hard against his chest. She moved enticingly, one hand still touching the wall, the other moving to cover his hand, to invite his caress. He trembled, but obeyed. He could feel her tense under his hands, her nipples becoming more protuberant, harder under his touch. He kneaded her breasts, taking the nipples between finger and thumb, not quite pinching, rolling the sensitive flesh until she began to moan. She pressed against him, pinning him between the heat of the wall and the heat of her body. She turned her head, her face toward him. Their mouths met, softly at first, then with heat. His tongue slid past her lips, tasting the salt of her sweat, into the hot recesses of her mouth. Honey, cinnamon, a touch of chile -- she turned in his arms until they were molded  
against each other from shoulder to hip. 

He was definitely responding to her ministrations. He could feel her pulsing mound against the swell of his cock, her breasts flattened against his chest, her hands -- she removed his sash and pulled the long vest off his shoulders while his hands were finding the curve of her ass fitted his hands quite nicely. She was a little less delicate with the shirt beneath. The fabric tore beneath her insistent fingers. Her hungry mouth moved along his jaw line, her tongue trickling fire as she licked and sucked along the ridge until she came to the juncture of jaw and neck. She moved down his neck, the skin so sensitive she tailed more fire across his skin and into his blood. He heard cloth tear again. The skin of her back was smooth, soft, supple, and slick with sweat. He pushed her back so he could find her breasts, the soft flesh tasted salt and sweet on his tongue. He pulled her nipples into his mouth, one at a time, sucking, nibbling, biting gently until she pulled his head back up so that their mouths could meet again. 

Trousers slid down legs, freeing them to continue their explorations. He moved until he found an outcropping of rock he could lean back against. She straddled him, but refused to allow him to plunge his erection into the hot tunnel he was seeking. Instead, she worked her way from mouth to neck, down his chest, teasing his nipples into erection and keeping his wrists trapped in her hands. She grinned at him as she licked down the rippling muscles of his abdomen, circled his navel with her teasing tongue, drifted through the silken pale hairs haloing his erection and finally, releasing his wrists, used tongue, lips and mouth to bring him so very close to exploding he thought he might just lose what little was left of his mind. He twined his fingers in her hair, urging her to finish what she had started.

She shook free and slid up his body again until her hot mound rested against his engorged cock. Her mouth sucked at his chin, his lips, her mouth, her tongue sliding inside to tease his before she sucked at it. His arms wrapped around her. She straddled him again. This time, he slid past her mound, across her swollen and engorged clit and into the wet, hot, taut tunnel of her need. Pale hairs entwined with blue-black. Slowly, oh so damnably slowly she slid up and then down until they were nearly one. He grabbed the cheeks of her ass to urge her to take this a little more seriously, a little more urgently. She straightened over him, arching back slightly. Green fires played in her eyes. Green fires seemed to play around her finger tips as she gripped his arms, straining against and with him, driving him, driving both of them to a shattering climax.

She felt him practically explode inside her spewing his seed into her as she shook with her own orgasm. She was breathless with the intensity. Her juices mixed with his, sluicing back down his shaft, down the face of the rock and onto the warm ground at its base. The stuff of life itself permeated the dirt as she sank back down against him. She had never been so exhilarated, so sated and so tired at the same time. She suspected he felt the same way given his closed eyes and the quieting of his heartbeat under her ear.

She felt the other presence seep into the area. Cautiously, she looked around to see a woman's figure that looked transparent and somewhat like molten gold at the same time. She watched warily as the figure looked them over. Carefully, she slid off of his slowly shrinking shaft and faced the figure. He opened his eyes sleepily and blinked. Then he practically held his breath as he focused on the strangely metallic and transparent woman.

The woman who had seduced him nodded gravely, honoring the new one. "Lady," she said softly.

The metallic one cocked her head to one side. "You drew me. You – sacrificed - life - seed. Very potent," she said in a voice both vibrant and fey at the same time. "You do not belong here. Why did you call me?"

"I need to return to my own place, but neither of us has the sheer amount of power it takes, Lady. I wished to request a borrowing of power, but I also wished to gift the Lady with something in return. If I may?"

The metallic one nodded, watching her every move closely. She picked up a rawhide thong with a small bag attached to it that she had been wearing. She carefully spilled its contents into her hand. Among the other items, were some flat black seeds. She chose two, carefully dug a hole in the moist dirt and tucked the seeds into it. She concentrated as he sat up to watch. What seemed like a very long time passed before two slender tendrils of green poked up through the dirt and wended their way up the face of the boulder.

She looked around at the metallic one. "This world has been damaged," she said softly. "This is a beginning."

"I accept." She extended a glowing hand to the black haired woman. The two figures melded. Then she looked puzzled. She looked around at him, her eyes molten gold and green flame. "How?"

Unbidden the way to open a portal darted into his mind. She smiled, turned toward the open end of the chamber and gestured. The tortured, whirling, eye hurting swirls of an open portal formed in the opening. The two figures parted. The black haired one stared at the opening. "Great, a stationary, temporary wormhole. I love it. She started to step forward, then turned back. She grabbed his hand and pulled him off the boulder and through the portal before he could object.

It was still hot, but it was incredibly bright on the other side. The portal vanished without a sound. Sand, stubby bushes, cacti and a very startled lizard greeted them. He shielded his eyes. His companion looked around curiously. Well, it was a lot closer to home than the cavern had been.

"Oh, great. Where the hell --"

"You ask that a lot?" he commented as he wrapped himself in gray clothing again.

"Well, yeah," she agreed, squinting at the desert around them. "I don't suppose you bothered to grab our clothes -- on - the -- way --" She stopped open mouthed. He was fully clothed and holding out a light weight robe for her. She took it and slid into it without a word. "Uhm -- shoes and a cell phone?"

He handed her a pair of sandals. He looked puzzled. "Cell phone?"

"Communication device?"

"Why?"

"So I could call a couple of friends who could give me a ride home. Well, you could tag along, of course."

"This isn't --" He gestured at the expanse of sand, etc. 

"Close, but no."

"Think of it?"

"I am."

He took her hand, stepped forward and stepped onto the gravel driveway in front of her home. A large white barn stood to their left. In front of them was a long low adobe walled structure. She walked over to the door with a spring in her step, punched in the code to open the door and stepped into the cool interior of her home. He looked around. Trees, green trees. Grass. Sun. She looked out at him.

"Are you coming -- oh dear." She hurried back out as he gasped in pain, doubled over and fell heavily to the gravel. He curled into a ball, shaking against the spasms that radiated out from his belly and began to encompass his entire existence. He was vaguely aware of a voice, a woman's voice. Warm hands were touching him, pulling at him. "Come on. I can't pick you up, you're too heavy. Come on. We've got to get you inside. Goddess, you're cold. Come on."

She pulled and pulled until he uncurled enough to let her help him to his feet. He still hurt. She slid under his arm and helped him inside. She took him straight to the guest bath and sat him on the lid of the toilet while she started filling the nice, deep tub with warm water. He was icy to the touch and she surmised he needed to get warm, but not boiled. He was shivering now, and sweating. She peeled him out of his clothes again and slid him into the tub. She stayed next to him while the water level came up to cover him. Then she started the heater and the circulating pump. His eyes were closed, his brow furrowed in a frown. He muttered softly, words that made no sense to her. She made neutral, soothing noises until he stopped shivering.

She breathed a sigh of relief as he relaxed in the warmth. He stopped muttering. His breathing evened out. He was asleep, propped up against the back of the tub. She let the water work for another quarter of an hour before she turned off the jets and let the water drain out. She turned the heater off when the water was almost gone. He was now a relatively normal body temperature to her way of thinking. She toweled him dry, then gently tried to get him to wake up enough to be put to bed. She wrapped him in a thick, warm terry cloth robe. It was white, pure, wonderful white. His sleepy glance took it in. He nodded his approval as he let her lead him into the bedroom. She put him to bed, pulled up the comforter over the thick acrylic blanket and made certain he was deeply, healthfully asleep before she left him to take care of her own clean up.


	2. Chapter 2

The Mines  
Chapter Two

 

Sunlight. Warmth. Birdsong. Sunlight, warmth, birdsong? Surely he was dreaming again? He opened his eyes and looked around. Sunlight streamed in through the sheer curtains over the window. The warmth penetrated the soft sand colored comforter. And there were definitely birds outside that window singing. He looked around the unfamiliar room. He was lost. He didn't have a clue where he was or what he was doing wherever it was. But it was warm, and much, much friendlier than where he remembered being for -- centuries. He felt very, very old.

He heard -- voices? Female voices. Three female voices. He pulled his robes around him, still gray, and went to find out what was going on. He walked down a narrow, cool, tile floored hallway. He stopped in the doorway. A kitchen. He thought. It was bright, sunlit, shiny tile on the floor, the walls and the countertops. Three women sat around a central counter. One was the black haired woman who had -- rescued -- him. One was shorter, rounded, wavy brown hair with golden highlights framing a laughing, heart shaped face. The third almost made him withdraw, but she turned to face him before he could move.

Pale blue eyes under white eyebrows regarded him solemnly. Curls of pure white were drawn up to the top of her head to cascade down to her shoulders and on down her back. Her clothes were jewel toned, rich without ostentation. He could feel the power of a god within her. His eyes slid away from the direct confrontation. He nodded his acknowledgement of her, a short, choppy motion. He missed the look of concern that furrowed her smooth brow as she looked to the black haired one.

"Your guest?" Her voice was rich, low toned.

"Yeah. It's OK. They don't bite."

"Hey! I do, too," the brown haired one objected with a grin that turned into a merry welcoming smile. "But only people I really, really like," she assured him.

"Kim!" The word was half censure, half laughter. 

"Well, it's true. Alex was always bitching about it --"

His rescuer rolled her eyes ceiling ward in reaction. "It really is safe to enter the kitchen. Just don't let her get you alone near a bed."

"Or a couch," the white haired one added.

"Or a thick carpet."

"Or --"

"Guyyyyyyyys!" Kim yelped. She broke up as the other two gave her incredibly innocent looks. She slid off the stool she was occupying and walked over to where he still stood in the doorway. She slid a hand around his arm and urged him forward, gently. "You look like you could use feeding. C'mon. They're annoying as anything, but Cheri's a really good cook."

"Is that saying that I'm not?"

Kim looked mischievous. "Depends -- on what we're cooking up." She led the bemused looking houseguest over to one of the stools while the black haired one, Cheri?, busied herself getting some food set out for him.

Cheri wondered what exactly her guest usually ate. The topic had not come up while they were in OutWorld and he had been asleep for the last 48 hours. She set plate and a tankard of cold water in front of him. He looked at the food. It was colorful. It smelled good. He picked up one enticing item and took a bite. The bread shell cracked, the stuffing inside fell into his mouth. Hot, fresh, the explosion of sensations was almost as overwhelming as she had been. He almost dropped the taco in his lap.

"Not too spicy?"

He shook his head in denial and concentrated on chewing. It didn't take that much, not like some of the things he had existed on in OutWorld. He took a long drink of water. It also tasted wonderful. He took about two more bites and vanished suddenly.

"Oh, shit!" came Cheri's response. She hoped he had just popped outside and not back to where they had arrived. She still had no idea where they had been when they left OutWorld. "Stay here. I'll see if I can find him."

She dashed outside and stopped. She closed her eyes and tried to see if she could feel him. There was something odd north of the house, in the woods. She walked around the house and carefully into the tree line. It took only a few minutes to locate him. He was just standing under the trees, his hands clenched in fists at his sides. He looked like he might be vibrating slightly. Clouds were starting to pile up in the sky overhead.

"I realize it takes some getting used to, but a thunder storm might be a little excessive."'

He jumped at the sound of her voice, whirling to face her. His eyes were like plasma, streaks of lightning playing in the sockets. She could feel his -- fear? She held out a hand to him.

"Look, I know it was sudden. And I know telling you it's all right doesn't make it so. I don't know who you are, who you were or why you were stuck with that nutcase. But right here and now, there is nothing for you to fear. Neither I nor my friends will harm you, or try to harm you. And the nutcase probably doesn't even know you're gone."

The latter was an erroneous conclusion. Shao Kahn had felt the energy flow distortion produced by the opening of a portal. He had stormed through his realm seeking the source. He had bellowed in fury when he discovered his favorite whipping boy was gone. He was setting a number of hunters in motion to look for the missing possession even as they spoke.

"He knows." The words were soft, serious, full of sorrow and pain. "I -- I'm Rayden." He made no move to take her hand, but the lightning died out of his eyes leaving them dark, somber, haunted.

"Lunch too hot?"

"What? No. No. I --"

"Long tasteless diet?"

His eyes started to slide away from her direct look, but he forced himself to continue to meet that gaze. So much honesty, so much - so like. He started to shake. He flinched as her arms went around him. She pulled his head down to her shoulder and stroked his hair. "It's OK. Let some of it go. You have to. Believe me, I know."

She also understood that this was not the time that would free him. It was only a beginning. She held him until the worst of the shaking was over. He was still stiff in her arms, his hands clenched and unclenched. A part of him wanted desperately to hold onto her, to respond to what she offered. The rest of him was jeering at his weakness, at his need. She loosened her hold and stepped back a little.

"Want to stay here for a while?" He knew she meant under the trees. He nodded. "OK. Still hungry?" Another nod. She smiled, a faintly lopsided smile. "I'll bring it out."

Inside, Kim was bubbling with questions. Who was he, where did he come from, what did he do, why was he --- Tam exchanged knowing looks with Cheri.

"Though I am curious. He *is* something very powerful. Not the usual sort of rescuee you bring home."

"Yeah, well, I told you about ---" She caught their looks. "I hadn't mentioned where I've been?"

"No."

"Oh." She gave them a short, pithy and to the point description of OutWorld and it's nutcase emperor.

"Euw. And I think I speak for all of us here when I say that."

Cheri looked at the other one. "Does she *really* live backwards or is it all an act?"

"Cheri! Tam! That's not fair!"

They both looked at her quizzically. "What has fair got to do with anything?" they asked almost in unison.

Kim broke up laughing. "Nothing. I know. I know. I knew the job was dangerous when I took it! Hey, I did not *ask* to get cloned, y'know."

Cheri and Tam exchanged bewildered looks. "You didn't? I thought you --"

Tam shook her head, white curls bobbing. "Oh, no. You're not pinning this one on me. I did not --"

"Did, too."

"Did not --" She closed her mouth with a snap and scowled at the two grinning faces before smiling back at them. "I think the tacos are getting cold," she pointed out blandly.

Kim took the plate and tankard. "I'll take it out. I'll be cool. Honest. The two of you scare him," she fired a parting shot over her shoulder. She was almost out the door when she turned back to face them with an odd look on her face. "Wait a minute. Did you say "OutWorld?"

Cheri looked blank for a moment and nodded uncertainly. "Yes. What about it?"

"OutWorld," she repeated. "OutWorld! As in Shao Kahn and Liu Kang and Sonya Blade and Johnny Cage -- *That* Lord Rayden?"

Green eyes met hazel brown. Cheri was trying very hard to follow this burst from Kim and wasn't succeeding. She looked puzzled. "I'm lost here."

Kim made an exasperated noise. "Only *you* could rescue a character from a video game!" she explained, setting the plate and tankard down again. "Cheri -- how do you do this? It's nuts. He's crazy. Or you are. Or we are," she ended with a smile starting.

Cheri looked at her oddly for a long moment. "You know the name?"

"Well, duh!" she picked up the plate and tankard again. "The poor guy needs this. Behave," she shot back over her shoulder.

The remaining two stared at each other for a moment, then laughed.

Actually, Kim did not disturb him nearly as much as the other two did. He was still trying to figure out how EarthRealm had survived Shao Kahn in such good order; and why Cheri had brought him with her. He took the plate and tankard with a nod of thanks and started eating again. Kim sat down on the pine needle littered ground a little way away from him. She tried very hard to observe the trees, the sky, the house, the rest of the world, but her gaze kept drifting back to Rayden.

"Yes?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry. You just -- didn't look like you really wanted to be alone, but you don't look like you want to talk, either."

"I'm sorry." The apology sprang to his lips automatically.

"Don't be. I'm the one who's being a nuisance. I'm not sure Cheri managed the intros. I'm Kim Elkins."

"Rayden."

"Nice name. So, Cheri dragged you home with her, huh?"

"Rescued me," he corrected her. Rescued. Wonderful word that. Yet he kept expecting to wake up back in Shao Kahn's throne room, having dozed off in the middle of one of the Emperor's tirades. Or in the mines, stiff from having fallen asleep on the cold stone floor.

"She's good at that," Kim said seriously. "She seems to spend most of her life rescuing someone or other." Was there an implication that he'd better be worth it? He frowned at her, trying to read the youthful face. She gave him a quick grin for his trouble. "I wasn't criticizing. I've been on the receiving end of a rescue or two or three dozen myself. Hell, I'd have been dead a dozen times over if it wasn't for Cheri. Permanently, at least once." She noticed that he was beginning to look overloaded.

"You and she -- "

"No. Cheri's -- immortal ---for want of a better word. I'm -- well, I kinda ceased to exist at sixty-something, woke up seventy-something in a body that looks twenty-something. I'm missing about six years, but aside from that it's not too bad. Finished?" she offered to take the plate and tankard.

Rayden gestured and they vanished. Kim looked around at the house. "Yes. I put them back."

"Good. She'll appreciate that." she stood up and dusted off her jeans. "So. Cheri found you in OutWorld."

Something in her voice cut through his self imposed numbness. He looked at her oddly. "OutWorld, " he repeated.

"As in *OutWorld*?" Rayden wasn't certain he liked the tone of her question. "As in Shao Kahn and Shang Tsung the soul sucking sorcerer and Liu Kang and Sonya Blade and Johnny Cage, etc., etc., etc.? " The first two names hit, although the latter three seemed to bewilder him. She gave a short laugh. "Great. I was right, only Cheri *could* rescue a god from a video game. I don't know how she does it. But it's better than the 150,000 year buried energy sucking alien she came up with a couple of years ago." She frowned at him. "Is this another one of Cheri's attempts to convince me of alternate reality theory?" she asked suspiciously.

Rayden scowled at her. "You *know* of OutWorld?" His eyes searched her face.

"OutWorld? As in Mortal Kombat?" she asked brightly. She really focused on his face now, as it was only a few inches away from her own. "As in *Lord* Rayden. *Thunder God.* Protector of the EarthRealm, Mentor of the champions of -- This *is* an exercise in alternate reality theory isn't it?" she ended softly and seriously. Then her eyes unfocussed. She was listening intently. “Incoming." She turned back toward the house.

He grabbed her arm and swung her back around to face him. "What?" His voice was cold and dangerous.

"Incoming. Two 'copters. One Huey and one Apache. Probably *not* military in this area, so probably looking for me." It suddenly dawned on her that he didn't have a clue here. "Oh. You haven't the faintest idea what I'm talking about, have you? Look, stay up here. They're machines that fly. They could be pretty unsettling if you're already off balance and the people flying them get very upset when they can't locate me. So, could you let go before you leave bruises? Please?"

Rayden glanced down at his hand. He released her. He was surprised when her fingertips brushed his face gently, as though in understanding and forgiveness. Then she was running back to the house and the large clearing in front of it where one helicopter was landing while the other quartered the area keeping an eye out for trouble.


	3. Chapter 3

The Mines   
Chapter Three

Rayden, as out of his depth as he could recall being, remained in the woods behind the house and watched the two flying craft. There were arcane symbols on the sides of both. KEI, Inc. (For those in the know, Kimberly Elkins International, Inc., a very powerful and hush-hush sort of organization dedicated to keeping Kim out of trouble, or getting her out once she gets herself in.) It meant nothing to him. He watched as both Kim and Tam entered the landed vehicle and left. Cheri, standing well back of the blades whirling above the body of the craft, waved good bye. In spite of his desire to remain shut off, Rayden could feel a sense of loneliness once the two vehicles were out of sight. He frowned at the lone figure still standing in the yard of the house.

Cheri looked around and located the speck of gray in the woods that was Rayden. She could sense his desire to hide when she spotted him, a desire she also sensed he sat on. He remained where he was as she walked out to join him. She noticed that banks of rain heavy clouds were beginning to roll in over the crest of the mountain. Lord Rayden, huh. Well, she'd seen his power in clothing and moving them, she wondered what was next.

"Hi."

His gaze was disconcerting. Flickers of lightning seemed to be playing in his eyes again, sparking around his fingertips. "She knows about OutWorld," he said quietly. 

Something with millions of nasty ice shod feet dashed up and down Cheri's spine. She became wary, although her body language did not betray this. "She plays video games. Apparently there is one called Mortal something-or-other that has a character with the same name."

"A character," he repeated. Two or three million ice shod feet, Cheri re-evaluated the thing on her spine. "And Shao Kahn? Shang Tsung? These also are *characters*?" His voice was smooth as silk and twice as deadly.

Cheri's clear green eyes met his own plasma hot ones. "Rayden," she said softly. "I knew nothing of these things until I got dragged into Shao Kahn's throne room. Kim has interests outside of those we share. That's all."

"Alternate reality theory," he repeated the phrase Kim had used and watched Cheri's face carefully. Lightning still played around his finger tips.

Cheri's gaze became withdrawn as she considered his words. OK. Alternate realities were not a problem for her, for reasons Kim and Tam knew nothing about. She knew alternate realities existed. She even suspected that some of the more out on a limb fiction, entertainment on her world stemmed from leakage from relatively closely linked minds in alternate lines of existence. She met his gaze squarely again.

"OK. So, the place where I found you, where Shao Kahn reigns, is an alternate reality." She took a deep breath and released it. Her next words did not surprise her, but they were related to something she had promised herself she was not going to do again. "So, *if* a person knew how to cross to alternate realities, and apparently those vortex gate thingys can, we could put you back --" Oops, bad phrasing that, she thought as the pyrotechnics exploded around her.

"Rayden!" she yelled over the sound of electricity flying. It took several minutes for a thousand years of anger, self-loathing, resentment and reactions to continued abuse to expend themselves. Cheri waited it out until the lightning died down, the thunder returned to the storm above them and Rayden sank to his knees, panting and shaking.

His head jerked up as she moved toward him. For just a moment, as her shadow blocked the light, he saw -- then he saw her face, the too green eyes in the pale oval and knew he was *not* back *there*. He realized he had let fly with enough power to kill and was instantly contrite. He tried to find his voice as she squatted down beside him. She sat down, reached out and pulled him into her arms.

"It's all right," she murmured into his hair. "Really it is. You didn't hurt me."

Their faces were close, closer than they had been except -- Instinctively, he kissed her. Softly, curiously, inquiringly. Her lips parted against his, her tongue running along the soft curve of his lip, teasing, inviting. His arms went around her, pulling them together as their mouths and tongues explored each other. She could feel the muscles in her belly tighten in response, the heat building between them. Her mouth quirked in a smile through the kiss. That wasn't the only thing building.

His hands sought the flesh beneath her shirt, sliding the fabric up, finding the small, firm mounds of her taut breasts. His mouth followed, hot and wet on her already hardened nipples. His hands slid down her silken skin to her waist, to the fastenings of her jeans. He eased them over the curve of her hips and down her long legs. She had dispensed with the usual non-sensible cotton hi-cuts and now lay naked on the grass beneath the trees and his ministrations. Her breathing harshened, he was -- oh, yeah. He definitely was. Her thought processes degenerated to a tangle of sensations that felt wonderful and did nothing for coherent thought.

His tongue slid down over her belly, his hands cupping her buttocks and pulling her mound up to his mouth. His hot tongue slid between her engorged lips and found her clit. She practically exploded at his touch. Soft, hard, sucking, electric, he brought her to the brink, then slid his fingers inside her hot and wet core using them and his tongue to bring her over into a shuddering, convulsive climax that left her breathless.

But not without continued desires. She smiled up at him, her eyes slits of emerald in the shadows beneath trees and clouds. She reached for him, pulling him down on top of her. Their mouths met again and she let hers wander while her hands, with minds of their own, worked on divesting him of his clothing as well. It didn't seem fair that she should be the only one to enjoy the heat of the day and the cool of the grass.

For a moment, it seemed he would resist. A part of him wanted to know what she wanted of him. Another part, a very tiny part, but one that was recovering from his long incarceration, knew that she *wanted* only what she was immediately asking of him. It overrode the rest of his questions, his fears and let Cheri's hands and mouth and body help with healing of its own.

She rolled him over in the grass, straddled him and sat up to really look at the lean, hard muscled body between her thighs. Like her, he was pale skinned. There were no scars. Well, it would take a lot to scar a god. Though it didn't seem to take much to get his full attention. She slid along the heavy, engorged rod that lay against his belly. Her juices made it an easy slide and certain that he would enter her equally easily. She lifted up enough to pull his shaft up to her throbbing lips, then slowly, oh so slowly, slid down the length of him until their hairs entwined. His hands gripped the curve of her hip. He gasped as she slowly worked on him with only internal muscular contractions that seemed to demand his full attention. 

She watched his eyes as she fondled her own breasts, keeping the nipples hard under her fingers. He pulled her down, his mouth hungry on hers again. His thrusts began, hard, demanding, needing. Soon they were meeting thrust for thrust, building tempo until it seemed as if the world could not hold the rhythms that shook them. He climaxed inside her even as her own orgasm took her. They lay together, glowingly exhausted in the aftermath of an experience that shook both of them, far more than their first encounter had done. That had been need of another kind. A sacrifice. This was -- well, definitely not a sacrifice. 

The clouds overhead thinned and dissipated allowing the sun to break through and shine though the leaves of the tall pines around them. It felt good just to lie there with his arms around her. Very good.


	4. Chapter 4

The Mines   
Chapter Four

Cheri awoke feeling a bit chilled. She was alone. Well, not exactly, Rayden was sitting in a tree a few feet away. He'd apparently summoned a blanket to cover his companion. She leaned up on her elbows and frowned at him. He looked down. Still no immediate softening of his face, no ready smile. She cocked her head to one side.

Twinkle out, twinkle in. He was beside her, squatting down to gaze into her face. "You -" he stopped. He couldn't find words. "Did I say thank you?"

"Yeah. You did," she assured him with a grin.

He looked thoughtful. There was so much he couldn't find words for. Words had been beaten out of him in OutWorld. He was still having a very hard time with this. There was so much he needed to know, so much he needed to say, so much - so much he'd missed while he was captive. Cheri could read all of this in that look. She wished she had a good place for him to begin, but she didn't. She reached for her clothes and started pulling them on. He caught her hand in his, brought it to his lips and dropped the lightest of kisses on the back before releasing her.

She shrugged into her clothes, gathered up the blanket and suggested dinner. "Not as though we've worked up an appetite," she admitted with a laugh. "But I do get peckish around sundown." She would have added more, but suddenly there were two Rayden's in the clearing; one frightened, one angry.

"Who dares?" the angry one demanded. Jeans, Metallica T-shirt, hair pulled back in a pony tail, Reboks on his feet, a leather jacket half pulled on. He glared at the other one.

Fear and determination warred within Cheri's rescuee. He straightened and faced - himself?

Cheri looked struck. "Oh, shit." Short, succinct, to the point. 

It got the angry one's attention. His look changed as he recognized her. "You?"

"Oh, yeah." She sighed. "What's the old gag? You're not in trouble unless you get caught -"

"You're in trouble." His sense of humor seemed to be reasserting itself. He looked the other Rayden up and down, a troubled look in his dark eyes. "This is not -"

"No. it's not. I haven't been gobbled up by time traveling black tornados this time. I'm not certain exactly what happened. I got grabbed. Couple of black outfitted types. There was this guy with a skull covering half his skull -"

"Shao Kahn," they said as one. Each gave the other a look.

"Yeah. So I've been told. Anyway, I got pitched into a stone labyrinth with this - Rayden - and I got us out."

"Hmm." He looked the other up and down. "Fell into that trap, did you?" Oh, the agony in the other's face as he nodded silently. The names Shao Kahn hadn't called him, he'd called himself. "Well, you can't stay here." He ignored the panic in the other's eyes and addressed himself to Cheri. "You're disrupting the power flows of this Realm. He has to go." 

It was simple, basic. What the hell was she going to do? "Right now?"

"Yes."

"Rayden - Lord Rayden - Oh, goddess, is this ever tangled."

"Which goddess?" the denimed one inquired.

"The Goddess. Don't ask. Don't go there. I have enough problems at the moment. You're asking for - the impossible."

"No. Just the reasonable. You brought him here. You put him back."

"No!" It was a hoarse cry yanked from the depths of despair. The gray robes twinkled out.

"Oh, thanks. You had to say that? You had to come bullying? Go! I'll deal with it."

"You'd best do so. Now."

"Go!"

Before the anger in those green eyes, even this Rayden knew that it was best to bow to her will. He left as he had come, swiftly and silently. But he would be watching.

Cheri walked back to the house. Yep. She could feel him, if she let herself do so. In the barn, far back in a corner, away from the horses, away from everything, pulled in on himself. He was cracking as he had not while still in OutWorld. There, his pride had held him together in the face of everything. Here, with the threat of a return to OutWorld, there was nothing to hold on to. Nothing.

Cheri looked into that pit of despair and sighed. She walked into the stall and knelt beside him. "I'm not sending you back." Nothing. "Rayden. You are not going back to OutWorld."

He shifted slightly, then looked at her, his eyes wide and black, not a shred of the sparkling plasma look to be seen. "He said -"

"He said you had to leave. He didn't specify where. I - I have access to -- Well, let's just say this isn't the only level of reality I can reach. Trust me?"

"Do I have a choice?" His voice was dull. He had lost hope. How could he know that a new world was about to open for him.

Cheri led him back inside her home, fed him, shoved him into the shower, in spite of the fact that he really wasn't particularly dirty. Hot water tended to have a calming effect on people, even godly people. Cheri always felt better after a hot shower -- bath -- soak in the Jacuzzi. She went to get towels and returned to find a tropical storm in her bathroom. She left the towels outside the door and went in.

"'Scuse me." Rayden jumped, his eyes snapped open. Plasma. OK. He looked panicked. "It's OK. It's just me. Cheri. The girl from the mine, the forest -- rescues r us?" That got a faint smile and he relaxed -- a little. "Scrub your back?" That got a rueful smile and a nod. Cheri shed her clothes for the second time that day and joined him under the water.

"One question. Do you vacuum it all up when you're through?"

"What?"

She pulled back the shower curtain. "You made a mess."

He laughed. "Yes, I did. And I'll clean it up. I promise." A part of his mind was looking at him very peculiarly, the rest was just glad she was there and didn't seem to be disappointed, disapproving, angry or any number of other things she could have been. But then, she didn't know him very well, yet. What an empty hole opened up at that thought, enough to swallow him whole except for a pair of slender, pale skinned arms that suddenly circled him and held him. They stood under the water for a very long time. 

Cheri put the thunder god to bed and went rummaging through her storage room. Somewhere, in one of the boxes, trunks, bins, crates, she had stowed the item for which she sought. It wasn't very large or imposing looking, but it could open doorways into time and alternate dimensions, so she had packed it away safely. 

Two hours later, she was beginning to think that (1) there was way too much stuff in her storage room, (2) putting things "someplace safe" was not the greatest idea anyone had ever had, and (3) it was time to unload some of this stuff. She sat down on a crate, looked down at the faded delivery label. Oh, yeah. This was the crate Lamont had shown up in. She hoped he was doing well. Dr. Robinson and Miss Scott had taken quite a shine to him. 

"OK. If I was a portal control, where would I be? At Time Base, of course. However, that doesn't help -- oh!" she hopped down off the crate and dove into a pile of boxes. Of course. All she had to do was find the boxes she was holding for Tal Fenchurch, and that would -- yep. Here they were -- and there it was! She pulled the small, dull gray metal box out of the packing in which she'd nested it some time ago. Two dials and an activation button. So simple. So dangerous. She set the dials at zero and activated the device. A couple of feet away from her, a slight shimmer in the air indicated the presence of a portal. Why they were oblong and door sized, she had never figured out, but they were. 

She turned it off, closed the box, replaced the stuff she'd moved and turned the light out. She closed the vault like door behind her and went to bed.  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
Tweet -tweet-tweet-tweet-tweet. Trillllllllll! Tweet! Phweet! 

Cheri considered an adequate amount of C-4 distributed among the finches and other tweety birds outside her window. Didn't they know she'd just gotten to bed? Didn't they know she was tired? Didn't they know she was about to set out on yet another hair-brained scheme to save the world? 

No.

She snorted a laugh and pulled her head out from under the pillow. OK. It was time to get up. She slid out from under the covers, her feet sliding into her fur lined house shoes (quarry tile is beautiful, but chilly on the feet!) and pulled on a well worn plush robe. She went to look in on Rayden. The room was empty. Oh, great. She made a swift circuit of the house and determined that he wasn't in it. She cussed under her breath in several different languages.

Sarcastic applause. She whirled to face -- Rayden. Rayden-now. She had to admit, he looked good. Not much older than his 1000 year younger self, and younger than the Rayden she'd rescued. "So, do you have a clue?" she asked sweetly.

He pointed to the front door. It was still locked, but Rayden didn't need doors, per se. She went out. He was standing on the curve of grass between the gravel drive way and the corral. There was a nasty looking, whirling, thingy between him and the corral perimeter. Rayden was just standing there, his robes whipping in the suction, staring at the vortex. Cheri padded over until she was next to him.

"I thought you said you weren't going back."

"I have to," he responded dully. Dead monotone. He was surprised when she grabbed his arm, spun him around to face her and backhanded him across the face, all in one smooth movement. The shock showed in his face as he tried to back away from her.

"Do I have your attention?" she asked sweetly. His head jerked up and down in a nod. Oh, hell. "Good. That leads to OutWorld?" Another jerky nod. "No."

"No?" he echoed.

"No. Oh, I will go back. But not yet. Not until *I'm* ready. Close it."

He did, with a gesture. He didn't even have to look at it. Several frozen great arctic owls took flight in Cheri's stomach, but she didn't let it show. So much power, and so easily bent to a stronger will - for now. OK, she would be that stronger will. Until she could find the way to put the shattered psyche back together in a workable whole. 

"Now, I'd like to get some breakfast before we go. Would you like some?"

He started to nod. "Yes. Please."

This was gonna take a while.


	5. Chapter 5

The Mines  
Chapter Five

Cheri took a deep break, a firm grip on Rayden's hand (as though this was going to keep him from doing anything he really wanted to do) and activated her portal. Well, he didn't bolt. That was good. She hoped. She pulled on his hand gently and took him through the portal into a busy place that was the clearance area for those coming and going from Time Base.

Cheri smiled over the name. It was short, to the point and descriptive. Like the Organization and Le Chapeau Noir (known to those of English extraction as: The Black Hats), it was not lack of imagination that named it, but the almost horrifying universality of its necessity for existence. Time Base was a guardian of the time lines -- to date. It wasn't there to criticize or fix or evaluate, just to make certain that someone else, and there were such a lot of idiotic someone else’s, didn't meddle. Good and evil become relative terms when millennia are the measures of the deeds.

Rayden stood, frozen on the entry platform. Whatever he had been expecting, this metal walled, sterile, *busy* environment wasn't it. There was so much life here, so much the opposite of where he had been and even of Cheri's mountain retreat. 

"It gets quieter if we move out of reception," Cheri told him, correctly interpreting the lack of movement.

He swallowed and nodded, kept a firm grip on her hand and went with her. She was right. The corridors leading away from the entry area were much quieter, although there was still a lot of coming and going. She led him along until she came to -- well, well. There was a door with Cheri's name on it. She keyed in her locking combination. The door slid open. The lights came on. The room looked no different than she remembered it. She suspected that the head of this organization had expected her return. She drew Rayden into the room.

It wasn't a very big room. It contained a mahogany roll top desk with matching chair, a daybed made up as a sofa for now, and a lot of shelves with books and artifacts piled on them. (This was rather than "displayed". Cheri had never gotten around to organizing them for a "displayed" look. Instead, they rather looked as though she'd unpacked boxes onto shelves and left it at that. Which was pretty much what she'd done.) She walked over to the desk and opened it. The dustless surfaces gleamed, the flat screen for the computer built into the surface held one blinking cursor light. She pulled out the drawer beneath and touched a key. The screen came to life with a greeting and the relative time  
within Time Base. A soft laugh escaped her.

Rayden was watching her closely. He was so far out of his depth it was frightening. OutWorld -- well, in some ways he had deserved OutWorld's retribution. He understood what it was and why it was happening. EarthRealm -- that was home -- had been home. Memories threatened to overwhelm him. Sorrow to break a god's heart welled up to drown him. Friends, those who had trusted him --

Shimmer. "Hello, Cheri. Who have you brought with you? I can't seem to find anything on him in my data files." The voice was liquid, silver bells and rippling water. The owner was also silver. She was a shade taller than Rayden, slender to the point of anorexia -- only it seemed to be due to the extreme fragility of the underlying framework rather than illness -- and clothed in shimmering, shifting silver translucence. Her face was ancient, timeless, her eyes paler silver in a face only slightly darker than her draperies. 

Rayden hit his knees without thought. He knew of only one entity that radiated the power this one did and looked remotely like this. He lowered his head in honor. "Lady," he breathed. 

The vision blinked. She reached out a three fingered hand and almost touched the gray hair. Her face reflected many things as she drew knowledge from him. "Oh, my. No, Lord Rayden, I am not She whom you think me. Please, rise." Such a gentle, knowing voice. He looked up into her face, then got to his feet. She smiled, gentle and maternal.

"Mother, Lord Rayden, God of Thunder -- from an earth variant called EarthRealm. Lord Rayden, the leader of Time Base, known to all of us as Mother."

"Lady," he acknowledged the introduction. OK. Not the One, not the Eldest, not the Creator of All; but so close. So very close. 

"Be welcome. You have had a difficult time. There are places here, and places we can access, to help heal. Give it some time and we will talk." She turned her face to Cheri. "You are well? Of course, you do not come to us when you have problems."

"Well, I never seem to have problems coming here would solve, y'know," Cheri reminded her with a touch of a west Texan twang in her voice.

Mother smiled. "No. Always the independent way. You know where to find me." Shimmer.

"I am not the first god you have met."

"No. But that doesn't mean Mother *is* one." Cheri refrained from mentioning that technology you can't explain equals magic. Mother was -- Mother.

Everything went along pretty well until Cheri and Rayden dropped into the canteen for dinner. Cheri really wasn't planning on meeting anyone she knew. So much for best laid plans. The first thing she heard was a laconic West Texas drawl that belonged on the back of a knock-kneed horse in 1872. (the author *is not* going to transliterate this drawl, you may supply it yourself.)

"Well, as I live and breathe, Cheri Yuconovich."

Cheri froze at the tortured delivery of her patronymic. "'Lijah. Shit." She then considered the effect this reaction might have on the thunder god at her side. Oh, well. Better late than never. She turned to face the extremely tall, lanky gentleman who had called her name. He was unwinding himself from the chair he occupied in a leisurely fashion that belied the incredible speed with which he could move when *absolutely* necessary. There was a welcoming smile beneath his trademark handlebar moustache. (No beard.)

Rayden regarded the man and then Cheri, but his attention was taken by the Nordic blond gentleman still seated at the table he had shared with 'Lijah. Grant Faulkner, once a field agent for the opposition, was quietly dangerous looking. From the golden goateed Vandyke beard and moustache he affected to the deliberately pale colors of his clothing, he projected an underlying strength and danger that vibrated resonating notes within Rayden. The two regarded each other as 'Lijah gathered Cheri into a hug that she returned.

"Elijah St. Peters, Ray-den --" She noticed Faulkner and Rayden noticing each other. "Just get here?"

"Just sat down to eat. Join us?"

With a feeling that a lion's den packed with starving lions might not be as dangerous, she agreed and went with 'Lijah. Rayden followed, his dark eyes never leaving the unbelievable blue of Faulkner's. ::If the electricity gets any thicker, I'm flipping a breaker,:: Cheri thought. Then again, it was seldom that anything got to Faulkner. Hmmmmmmmm. 

Rayden found himself alternately attracted and repelled by Faulkner. He relaxed under the flow of easy conversation passing between 'Lijah and Cheri. He even found himself following the conversation, yet his eyes kept coming back to that piercing gaze. Oddly, Grant was feeling the same. There was something about this Rayden that made him uneasy, yet drew him like a magnet. And, of course, there was Cheri. 

Cheri and Faulkner had met, face to face, many times, over the course of long and lucrative careers. Usually, he was on the losing end when they met. Cheri was just too straight arrow about keeping things status quo, as far as major time lines were involved, to do anything other than unhinge his major schemes. Not that he would come away empty handed, just not as full as he had wanted. He had hated her. Yet -- There was always that "yet". For whatever reasons, when things had really fallen apart on both of them, she saved his life at risk of hers. Debts accrued. Tag, you're it. That had lasted until he had finally looked at the uncaring attitude his employers took about the time lines they looted and had understood why Cheri was Time Base and not Council. Means were frequently the same, but the ends were always different. Good or bad, the time lines needed to remain unchanged. What had happened, was. What was to happen, well, that was a different matter.

Cheri had recruited Grant Faulkner, pulled his nuts out of the fire (somewhat literally) and handed him off to Mother. She had recruited Elijah as well. And now it looked as though there was another recruit on the way. His eyes flickered up to meet Rayden's. He caught his breath. So much pain, so much longing, so much -- so much hunger; but not physical hunger. It was the psychic hunger of the emotionally starved. Mother knew that Faulkner had once worn that look. Mother was, in some ways, Faulkner's goddess. He had no other.

They repaired to the Time Base saloon after dinner where they imbibed far more alcohol than was good for any of them. Grant and Elijah plied Rayden with every alcoholic concoction known to Time Base, fit for the consumption of anything remotely approaching warm blooded humanoid. Rayden got drunk. He was happily fuzzed when Grant asked the fatal question. 

"What the hell is OutWorld?"

Rayden told him. He told him about Mortal Kombat. He told him about Shao Kahn. He told him about a god who blew his responsibilities and ended up in OutWorld for a millennia, the plaything of his enemy. Cheri and Elijah kept the drinks coming. The pain, the terror, the hurt stayed at a distance. It was Faulkner who surprised them by commiserating with tales of his own to almost match the ones Rayden told. No one had ever heard those tales. No one outside of the little circle heard them now, Mother saw to that.

Cheri was stunned by what she was hearing. Maybe she really was a weirdness magnet. She looked at Elijah. Solid, down to earth and a sympathetic ear. She could see the anger roiling beneath his placid surface. He would keep it under control. There was nothing he could do to see justice done for either man or god, not now. But if there ever was -- Holy Hannah!


	6. Chapter 6

The Mines   
Chapter Six

Rayden got to his feet, swaying slightly. He hadn't been this drunk in -- in -- his mind fumbled. A long time. Cheri and Elijah moved to steady him, but were slightly behind Grant who slid a shoulder under the thunder god's arm and an arm around his waist. Rayden gazed into the slightly out of focus blue eyes. He smiled and waggled an admonitory finger at him. "You're drunk," he confided.

Grant let a smile warm his face. "I think we're all drunk."

Rayden considered this seriously for a moment. "Good," he pronounced with a grin. "Good." He swayed again.

"I think it's time for bed," Cheri injected. She flushed slightly under the trio of gazes that were suddenly fixed on her. She coughed. "OK, drag the brains out of the gutter, gentlemen. Sleep."

"Oh, yeah. Right," Elijah agreed. He wasn't weaving, but he wasn't anywhere close to sober, either.

Rayden staggered and nearly took Grant down before Cheri slid under his other arm with a sigh. Great. A sloshed god. Maybe he'd just go to sleep. The quartet wove through the hallways back to the quarters they had been assigned. Cheri ignored the occasional fondle of her breast the thunder god was indulging in. She tried to ignore it. Her belly was not doing well with this idea, the muscles kept tightening in anticipation.

She got Faulkner and Elijah to the suite they shared. The door slid open and the three of them rolled in, Elijah bringing up the rear. Cheri disentangled herself from Rayden who collapsed onto the couch with Grant. She made a face at them and made certain Elijah made it to his own bed. He did, collapsing bonelessly on top of the covers and beginning to snore immediately. Cheri closed the door behind her. 

Grant and Rayden had started to untangle themselves when they both became aware of the immediate proximity of each other. Faces barely an inch or so apart, they found themselves gazing into each other's eyes, lips parted, both sort of lost in the other's eyes. Rayden's thigh rested between Faulkner's. He could feel the swelling bulge of the other's shaft. He shuddered slightly. He wanted to pull away, to move, to leave, yet there was nothing he feared in that startled gaze.

Faulkner was aware of his attraction to the god. He was repelled by his physical reactions, and yet -- there was something in that plasma sparked gaze above him that drew him, made him want to pull the other to him, to hold him, to soothe the hurts, to -- ever so gently their mouths met. Soft exploration of sensitive skin deepened until they were molded against each other, mouths demanding more of the heat they generated.

Thud.

Cheri struggled not to laugh. Grant and Rayden fell apart as they hit the floor between the couch and the coffee table. They noticed Cheri and colored furiously. Her smile reassured them.

"I'm going to bed, guys --"

Blue and dark eyes met, an impish grin curving Rayden's mouth. He got to his feet and twinkled to the door ahead of Cheri. 

"Why leave?" he asked huskily.

"Well, the two of you -- uhm --

Grant was still lying on the floor, propped up on one elbow. He was regarding the thunder god and Cheri quizzically. He wasn't unaware of Cheri as a woman, it just hadn't ever occurred to him that -- that she -- a very befuddled brain hamster in an out of kilter exercise wheel shrugged its shoulders and went to sleep. Grant got to his feet and joined the two of them. He stood behind Cheri, just beyond actual touch. She could feel his heat. She could see the glow in Rayden's eyes. She looked around at Faulkner. Oh, boy. The last time she played crème filling -- Cheri giggled a little hysterically, threw an arm around each man's neck and kissed each in turn. What the hell.

Cheri turned off her defense systems as two hot mouths worked down the sides of her neck. The temperature of the room rose several thousand degrees. Rayden's mouth found hers, seeking, demanding, his tongue a welcome intrusion while Grant's hands and mouth were busy sliding her out of her shirt. 

Twinkle.

Grant and Cheri gasped slightly at the sudden transport to the horizontal. Grant's lips replaced Rayden's on hers. Electric tingles trailed down her shoulders to her breasts. Rayden's hot, wet mouth suckled at her nipples until they were hard, her breasts swollen, her belly muscles tight in anticipation. Her fingers were busy at work on the fastenings of Grant's clothing, when they were capable of doing anything more than holding on.

Where Rayden's skin was smooth, satin, Grant's was marred by old scars. His back was a ripple of scar tissue left by someone's whip. Rayden's eyes flared at the scars. His hands, already urging both his companions towards their needs, were gentle as they stroked the skin. Grant gasped. There had been little real sensation in his back for so long, it was like having all the nerve clusters suddenly discover something wonderful at once. They kissed again, deeply, demanding. Cheri took a breather and with a mischievous grin, took each in hand. They shuddered at her touch on their already engorged shafts. Then shuddered again as she applied her mouth and tongue to the head of one and then the other as they knelt on either side of her.

Grant pulled her up between them, Rayden skinning her denims down her pale legs, leaving her in black cotton panties and nothing else. Grant held her at arm's length and really looked at her, letting his eyes take in her porcelain skin, the firm small breasts, the curve of her hip, the forest of silken black hair at the juncture of her thighs. He ran his hands over her sides, down the curve of her ass, then pulled her to him. His shaft fit between them, the base rubbing against her swelling, throbbing mound.

Rayden's hand slid between her thighs from behind, slid into her wet slit, into her. He slid farther forward to pull Grant's shaft down, guide him across her swollen clit and into her. He slid in slowly, completely. Rayden caressed her breasts and nipples while steadying her between them. Slowly, Grant began to thrust into her, driving deep into her receptive depths. She leaned her head against Rayden's shoulder, working with the rhythm of Grant's thrusts. She reached around Grant to hold him as he kissed Rayden, the taste of the god heady in his mouth, in his body. The intensity of the feeling sent him shuddering into release, his seed hot within Cheri. If not for her arms around him, and Rayden's he would have fallen backwards onto the floor.

Gently, Rayden guided them onto the bed. Their arousal and release feeding his own desires, his own needs. Their sweat slicked bodies filling his senses. He was only vaguely aware of Cheri's sliding from between them as she pushed Rayden back down on the bed so she could slide between his legs, her hands holding his shaft, pulling, tugging, urging it to stiffen. Then her mouth engulfed the head, sliding her lips halfway down the shaft, her tongue swirling round the head, enticing, enchanting, urging, sucking -- Grant's hands traced pathways down his flanks, across his chest, teasing his nipples into erection, tightening his belly, heating his groin. He trembled between them. He had given pleasure many times, but seldom had he been pleasured as these two were doing now. He slid his arm under Grant, pulling the lighter framed man to him. Their mouths met again, demanding, tongues tangling and teasing while Cheri urged the god onward. Her fingers teased his scrotum, caressing and fondling his gonads. She lubricated her fingers and slide across the sensitive skin behind the sac, accepting the deep thrust this engendered, she slid her fingers around to slide between Rayden's cheeks.

She could feel the electric reaction, she pulled away and stepped up the sensations on his rigid cock. Grant had also sensed the stiffening, the touch of panic. He used his mouth to sooth, to pull Rayden's attention to himself, away from the misstep within their union. Unexpected that a god who had essential initiated this tryst would be shy of --of what? Rayden groaned and surrendered to his orgasm in a shuddering loss of tension. Cheri gulped once, and gave up. Gods obviously came better equipped for such things than most mortals. He flooded her mouth and the creamy cum ran out the sides and down her chin. She came up for air laughing.

"*That* was an orgasm," she murmured to no one in particular. Somehow, it struck her companions as funny and they all ended up laughing. 

Faulkner reached for her and pulled her between them, nestled so that her curves melted against them. Lazily, the two men set about seducing her. She closed her eyes and released herself to the sensations of two pairs of hands and two mouths on her skin, her breasts, taking turns arousing her clit, both hot and demanding as they became aroused themselves. 

Grant traced delicious circles around her anus with his tongue, lubricating the entrance and making her squirm between them in such a lovely fashion. He made certain she was ready, the head of his cock resting against the opening, slowly, so tantalizingly slowly, he entered her until he was completely inside. His thighs separated hers, leaving her open for Rayden. With equal slowness, the god entered her, buried himself within until her wet black curls were ntertwined with his pale short hairs. He timed his thrusts so that they were slow, deep, filling until her own pelvic motion indicated he should comply with her need. Soon, they were in constant motion, Cheri wanting, demanding, gasping her desire for both of them. 

Cataclysm. The universe exploded and reformed around them. Rayden and Grant stiffened and shuddered, pulsing within her simultaneously and sending her over the edge into an orgasm she wondered if she would survive -- and if she didn't -- well, that canary eating grin was going to be hard to explain at the pearly gates. 

They lay, exhausted, tired, complete, entangled in each others arms, both of them still buried within her. She kissed each of them, gently; relaxed between them and went to sleep. Grant and Rayden followed suit. 

================================================================Dark. Where was he? OutWorld. Of course. Escape was only in his dreams.

"Rayden."

He froze. Shao Kahn called his name. 

"Come here."

Maybe the Emperor would give up if he didn't answer, didn't move, didn't breath.

Shadows moved, surrounding him, holding him, hailing him forth for Shao Kahn. They dragged him to a chamber. Threw him onto the bed. Stripped him of his robes. He fought back. No. Whatever Shao Kahn had in mind, he would not surrender. The shadow priests beat him down, knocking him half unconscious, holding him for Shao Kahn's pleasure. 

Shao Kahn's pleasure. How could any being take pleasure in -- in -- Pain. Was this what women felt when they were unwilling? Was this what they suffered? He tried to take his mind away from what was done to him. He tried not to feel. Tried to bring his anger to bear. Tried - until finally he screamed, he begged, he pleaded with Shao Kahn to kill him, to stop, to leave him in peace. 

Laughter. Black laughter. Get used to it, little brother. Get used to it.

Darkness.

Retreat.

He could feel power -- searching -- searching -- reaching out --

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The room crackled with energy. Grant looked into Cheri's sleepy frown and then at Rayden's face. It looked for all the world as though the thunder god was fighting without moving a muscle. Nightmares. What could cause someone like that nightmares? Then he thought about what they had discussed. Enough to give anyone nightmares. Rayden needed to wake up.

Shimmer. A slender silver hand touched the god. Rayden awoke, a startled exclamation on his lips, panic in his eyes. He felt the terror recede. He looked into Mother's silver eyes. He felt Cheri's arms go around him, and Grant's around them both. He trembled, shuddered, fought for control, cried. Great heaving sobs shook the god. Muttered incomprehensible mumbles were met with soothing words. It would take time.


	7. Chapter 7

The Mines  
Chapter Seven

Rayden awoke with a feeling of disorientation. Someone mumbled something sleep grumpy and cuddled against him. His left arm seemed to be entangled in someone's hair. Black hair. Lots of black hair. Gently, he untangled himself. He was about to ease out of bed when he realized there was someone behind him. He froze. 

Grant Faulkner, reacting to the reaction, was immediately awake. He blinked. He wasn't in his quarters. Where the - Rayden. Cheri. Rayden and Cheri. Grant blushed. Then he looked at the trying very hard not to be there thunder god between them.

"It's all right," he said softly.

Rayden relaxed at the sound of Grant's voice. He let go the breath he had been holding, as though he really needed to breathe at all. A rueful look passed between them and both made a solemn internal vow not to get that drunk again for a while. Something must have flitted across both faces, because they both laughed abruptly. The tension eased.

Grant slid out of bed, gathered up his scattered clothing - how did that get there? - checked his wrist chronometer and swore quietly. He and St. Peters were due at a briefing in five minutes. Oh, what this was going to do to his reputation - he pulled on his clothes, made his excuses and a hasty exit. 

By the time he reached the briefing room, there was no external indication that he had spent the night somewhere other than his own quarters, including a twinkling change of clothes into something suitably unwrinkled. He slowed his pace for a moment to check out the change, gave the thunder god a mental thank you and sped onward.

Rayden slid out of bed and into the bathroom. Hot showers were becoming a real treat. Cheri shifted, mumbled in her sleep and snoozed onward. She was still asleep when he came out, refreshed and dressed. He frowned at her. The green eyes popped open, slightly unfocused. A heartbeat and she was there. She looked around and found him standing by the bedside. She stretched, catlike, completely. Rayden found his thoughts straying to concealed curves and delights. She smiled up at him.

"You keep that up and we won't make it to whatever it is you have planned today."

She laughed. "Shower. Desperate need." She padded into the bathroom and indulged herself with a lengthy hot shower. She still had to get dressed when she padded out again. There were some things a god could do that mere mortals could not. 

She dressed in black, long sleeved t-shirt, denims, and soft soled moccasin style boots. Then she led him to a room full of machinery he did not understand. She cornered an absent minded looking fellow with a shock of red hair and a pair of wire framed glasses that seemed permanently perched just short of disaster on the tip of his nose. 

"Yancy."

He looked at her for a moment in the most bemused way, made a correct identification and smiled at her. "Cheri. I thought you were -"

"I was. I'm not."

"Ah. Well, that explains it. What impossible thing do you want this time?" It was a very matter of fact question for all its potential for sarcasm.

"I need to find his timeline."

"Ask him."

Cheri gave him a look. "Ah. Not that simple?"

"No. Alternate earth. We can give you a lot of information, but I wasn't carrying a portal when I was there, and I wasn't exactly there, if you know what I mean."

"No. But I'm certain you do. Well, record what you know and then I can take some - measurements - of some sort - I'm sure."

"Thanks."

She took Rayden's arm and guided him out of the R & D center. He frowned. "What was all that?"

"R&D."

"Could we be a little more explicit?"

Cheri looked blank for a moment. It was explicit - Oh. Well, not to him, of course. "Research and development. It's were the scientific types create stuff for us." Rayden was trying very hard to follow this, but wasn't succeeding. He was frowning. "OK - Let's try this. You can open a portal between one realm and another by desiring to do so." 

"Yes."

"Well, we can't, normally. So we have to invent machines to do it for us."

"Machines?"

"Uh -- yeah. O - K. This is gonna be a little tougher than I thought." She tried to give him a clear, uncomplicated definition of machine, which isn't easy when you know exactly what you're describing and you keep forgetting that a thousand years ago there weren't a lot of machines. Even clockwork wasn't well known.

Finally, Rayden held up a hand to stop the flow of ideas. "You have devices which can duplicate what a god does with innate power."

"Basically," she agreed.

"That is the most frightening thing I've heard so far."

"No, it's not."

He raised an eyebrow at her. 

"The most frightening thing you've heard, so far, is Shao Kahn bellowing your name." She slid her arms around him as she said it. She could feel him stiffen and then relax.

"All right," he admitted with a nod. "*That* is by far more frightening."  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

OutWorld shook with Shao Kahn's rage. He bellowed, he cussed, he killed people. He wanted his never to be sufficiently damned, goody two shoes, little brother back where he belonged. Unfortunately, the Shadow Priests could not locate Rayden, on any plane. They cowered and shriveled before their dread lord.

Shao Kahn stormed into his quarters, ripped the half skull mask from his face and threw himself into a sturdily built, well padded chair. He growled to himself. He did not look around as bare feet padded into the room. He did not want his attendants now. A touch of laughter, deep in a woman's throat, made him look around swiftly. He snarled.

Tanya Kropotkin looked bored. Tawny hair tumbled around her shoulders and down her back in a partially matted mass. Her pale golden skin was dirty. Strips of cloth concealed breasts and groin, and that was all. Still, she stood proudly, her slightly slanted aquamarine eyes meeting Shao Kahn's hot glower as though none of this mattered. 

He stood, a smooth, feline motion, and was before her in the space of a thought. He ripped the cloth from her body, threw her on his bed and took her. There was no love making, no tenderness, no cries of passion. No cries at all, it occurred to him as he pulled his pants back into place. He frowned down at her. Even Vorpax had complained of his assault. Was that laughter in her eyes? What did she find to laugh about? He reached down, twined his hand in her hair and pulled her up to him. Not a grimace. Just that damned almost smile curving her lips. "What do you smile about, woman?" he growled.

"I am no longer bored, -- Emperor." There was just that fraction of an insolent hesitation between the answer and the honorific. She could see the anger in his eyes. She reached out with slender arms and pulled him to her, his armor gouging into her, her mouth captured his, almost against his will.

She lazily invaded his mouth, pulling him into her web, his body responding to her demands while his mind was off balance. She coaxed him out of his armor, out of his leathers, out of the self imposed shell of arrogance and anger. She seduced him as he had not been seduced in -- eons. She reminded him that the Emperor of OutWorld was male, desirable, wanted -- not for what he could do, the fear he could induce, but for the physical beauty and ability that was his. It was almost as though only a god could satisfy the fires within. Perhaps that was so.

The Emperor awoke alone.  
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
Down in the Cobalt Mines, Tanya Kropotkin pulled on a supple leather cat suit that molded itself to her curves. Not for her the melodramatic denial of the Emperor. No. She could use the Emperor - for quite a number of things. OutWorld was - intriguing. She smiled to herself. The Kropotkin had a plan.

In Time Base, Cheri had one of those sudden jolts that feel like something inhuman has just danced a fandango on one’s grave. She swiftly reviewed the people still alive who might have caused the feeling. Only two were frightening enough to cause the reaction. She doubted that Rand was loose again. She knew where he was. Sort of. She made a mental note to go retrieve the VR box from the sea off a cliff in Hawaii. She needed to check in on the Hawaiian angle anyway. Thank the Goddess Time Base could put her anywhere except exactly in her own past. 

Grant and Elijah had left on a mission. No knowing how soon they would be back. Time Base kept its time subjective to the occupants so that you never, ever met yourself. That was one of the really big rules. No meeting yourself. A few operatives had broken that rule. None had survived.

“So, I can’t go back and warn myself to ignore the trap?” Rayden questioned.

“Nope.”

“But you could.”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Because you are a major player in that time line. To warn a human would change very little, relatively speaking. You could save all the people Shao Kahn killed and it would not really change much in the time line. Not to the point of making a new one. On the other hand, if you don’t go into the trap, you can’t come out.”

He frowned. “I’m not sure -“

“Yeah. Among other things, a certain gift to a planetary goddess would not be made. I suspect that is a primal incident. A thousand years of changes in you would be negated. The you I am speaking to now would cease to exist - or -“

“Or?”

“There is a remote possibility that the choice made is a critical one in the paths of the worlds. An entire new timeline would diverge to accommodate *both* scenarios.”

Blink. 

Cheri grinned and laughed. “Yeah. I hate that one. The timeline you remember would continue on. The timeline in which you warn yourself would diverge and create a whole new set of parameters. Well, that’s one theory.”

“What’s the other one?”

“That you meet and the entire timeline ceases to exist in a silent implosion.” Cheri grimaced. “There is some indication that the latter is more likely than the former. There are whole areas of the time flux we can’t access. Some of them are so alien we just aren’t equipped to handle them. Some of them - well, there are indications that within the area are voids and intermixed lines, situations so horrible for those within that all existing life forms are operating in what we would consider forms of madness. We’re barred from those lines. It’s a - like dialing a phone and getting a busy signal.” She took in Rayden’s blank look. OK. Rayden current would understand this. Rayden not current didn’t have a clue. “Hmm. I’m not quite certain how to explain it.”

“You don’t have to do so. I understand enough that I would not like to try the experiment. I can’t warn my younger self. But I *can* step in once he is gone?”

Cheri considered this. She nodded, slowly. “Yes. Don’t see why not.”

“Because then he won’t be here to see if I can recruit him,” Mother’s lush silvery voice chimed in as she materialized near by. Rayden was getting used to her coming and going. He didn’t shy away from her voice as he had done earlier.

“I suspect I would be a very poor recruit,” he responded dryly.

She gave him a warm look. “I think you would be a nice addition to our ranks. But I also think you have a time line to get back to, and that is the more important to you. I just wanted to let you know that our people who deal with such things have decided that whenever you want to go, you’re ready for it.”

His eyes brightened with unshed tears. “Thank you. I *do* need to get back. I let them down - badly. My EarthRealm doesn’t deserve what my pride led it into.”

“Then go when you feel the time is right.” She vanished silently.

He gave himself a shake. Sometimes being on the receiving end of that sort of thing was unsettling. He grinned at the thought. Perhaps he would be a little more considerate of his protégées from now on.

He waited until Grant and Elijah returned. He wanted to thank the golden haired man for his kindness and caring; and for allowing Rayden to bend his ear to the extent that he had.

Grant colored slightly and nodded. His smile was warmer than usual. They hugged and parted. Cheri got a bear hug from the thunder god. He gazed down into her emerald eyes. 

“There is so much -“

“It’s OK. You’re going home. You know what to do. And what not to do. And, I suspect, at some point in time, you may find that there’s a Yuconovich, or someone like her, in your own time line. Keep an eye out for her.”

“I will. But no one will replace you and what you have given me. My Realm is at your feet.”

“Well, pick it up before it gets tripped over,” she responded wryly. “Now. It’s time. No more gray. You are Lord Rayden, God of Thunder, Protector of Earth Realm - go do your job.”

He released her. Walked to the portal that awaited him. He turned and bowed respectfully to the trio who watched him. Then, straightening his shoulders, shimmering with power as his robes changed hue and form, he stepped through into the hidden city. 

It was as he remembered it. The crowd was chanting Sha Ka, Sha Ka - a corruption of the Emperor’s name. He materialized on the pillar on which he had stood to rescue his heroes. This time, there were shadow priests everywhere, but only for a very few moments.

The unbelievably nubile Omegis walked down the dusty road as she always walked, a combination of "come and get me" coupled with a little girl tip-toe. She could sense the shadow following her, she welcomed it, her eyes bright, her smile blinding. Death. Finally.

Only that wasn't exactly what happened. Oh, someone died, but it wasn't Omegis. The touch on her shoulder as the being reached for her triggered an unexpected reaction. Somewhere deep inside, Omegis wasn't quite as ready for death as she had thought. Reactions she had thought well and truly sat on sprang to her defense. The fight was short. Omegis called on both her prowess as a martial artist and her skills with magic, practically without thinking. She found herself staring down at the swiftly dissolving corpse of a shadow priest, her eyes wide, her mouth dropped open, her body falling naturally into a defensive stance. What was she doing?????

She looked back down the road to the hidden city. All this time, she had longed for death, had prayed for it to take her. Death came and she fought. Why? What was there to live for? Tshang Sung was -- gone. EarthRealm was going to be swallowed by OutWorld. Death and destruction would surround her, but *not* take her. 

Revelation.

Omegis drew a deep breath, settled within herself and nodded. OK. If that's the way the gods wanted to play it, she would withdraw again. Only she her gaze was drawn again to the wall of rock surrounding the city. Idealistic fools, both Kung Lao and the citizens of the city. She turned to walk away, and could not. She turned back toward the city, a frown marring her lovely features. What did she care for mortals and their problems? 

Lightning. Bolts of it from the blue. Rayden?

Omegis susrprised herself by running toward the city. Toward destiny.

Rayden stood where he had stood before when he dispersed the crowd in the hidden city, when he had told them their god was false, when he had saved Kung Lao and his friends. He had appeared, not in a twinkle of godly power but in a frightening shaft of light. The shadow priests about to overwhelm the champions of EarthRealm shied back from the light. Taja and Siro were already down. Kung Lao hung on to consciousness with will alone. The anger in Rayden boiled up and over. Shadow priests vaporized in the light that played over them. Neither the residents of the city nor Kung Lao had ever seen anything like the outpouring of power that raged around Rayden. The open air temple shook with the energies that poured over and through the stones. And the stones, so long there, became sand, blowing away on the wind of Rayden's wrath.

Omegis watched wide eyed. She spied a shadow priest making his escape. Now what could she do about that? One had been easy enough to defeat. Her garb shimmered into a warrior's tunic. "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty," she murmured and went in pursuit. ::Of course. There's another portal.:: Like a cat, she licked her lips in anticipation. This should be fun. There was, of course, that matter of fact, I-really-don't-like-being-alone-and-immortal part of her brain that was objecting to all this heroic activity. She ignored it. This felt good, and that was something Omegis hadn't felt in a long time.

From a vantage point he didn't quite understand, Siro was watching Rayden - and Omegis - and a lot of things. For once, he felt as comfortable with the universe as he could remember feeling. He was aware of a sense of detachment, as though what went on did not really concern him Or it did, but only as a small part of the whole. He took a moment to nudge Omegis into action over the running priest. He looked at the fluctuating energies of the vortex open between the two realms, gave another nudge and watched the power ripple away from him. He grinned. He knew how to counter the balance of powers.

Tug.

He blinked and found himself looking up into Rayden's face. The normally dark eyes were nearly solid silver. Blink. The god smiled at him. It was a tight smile, but it was sincere. Rayden offered him a hand up, which he accepted. He had a faint memory of - he frowned at the vortex. 

"We need to close that."

A look of regret. "How?"

Siro met the god's gaze. He told him. If Rayden was surprised, it didn't show. He merely turned, unbalanced the energies and shielded the people around him as the vortex exploded. Gate gone. "Thank you."

Rayden turned his attention to Taja who pulled in a gasping breath, choked, sputtered and started breathing regularly. Kung Lao was the easiest to bring back from the brink since he hadn't fallen over yet. His head jerked up as Omegis and her captive joined them. He frowned at the sorceress.

She smiled back brightly. "I thought you might like to talk to this one - disintegration is so - permanent?" She forced the priest to his knees before the god. 

"*Why* would I want to talk to one of Shao Kahn's shadow creatures?"

Kung Lao wondered about the harsh tone. It was unlike the Rayden he knew. He sensed there was something he didn't know. But now was not the time to ask.

"To find out where the other portal is?" Omegis suggested. She met the flickering look he gave her, the bright and carefully maintained mask she always wore perfectly in place. Inwardly she flinched a little. Having discovered that she wasn't ready to die, she was playing with fire here.

"Other? Portal?" Siro and Taja caught the extremely dangerous undercurrents in the softly spoken words. They hoped the Shadow Priest had sense enough to just answer Rayden.

Silence.

Rayden reached out and stripped the cowl and mask from the priest. Recoil. Anger turned to aghast horror. Beneath the mask there was no face, just a blank place. No features, no mouth, no nose, no eyes, no hair; a flesh colored egg on a neck. There were no answers there. He destroyed the creature with a gesture.

With another gesture, he took them out of the hidden city. Siro and Taja steadied each other as they arrived in Zhou Zhin. Without a word, he left the four of them there and vanished.

Rayden stood on a crag overlooking the hidden city. He wanted to smash it, turn it to dust. Yet he knew the people still there had been suborned by Shao Kahn, that they were not inherently evil. He could not bring himself to destroy them. Their belief was wrong, yet Shao Kahn had done nothing to the people of the city except give them hope. A second figure twinkled in beside him. A small god, red haired, blue eyed and scruffy looking. He seemed a bit surprised when Rayden shied away from his arrival.

"Hey! Relax. Just me. Thought I'd look in on the disturbance you're creating."

"*I'm* creating!"

He shied back himself. "Uh - figure of speech. Honest." He took a good look at Rayden and noticed some changes. "Look - I really just came to find out - what was up. And if I could help." 

That got a short laugh. "You? Help? Since when?"

"Aww - c'mon. I'm not that bad."

"Trickster. Joker. Fool."

"Well. Yeah. That's me. But, hey, somebody's gotta keep the realms from taking themselves too seriously."

Rayden glowered, then looked thoughtful. He turned his gaze on the city and then back to his insouciant companion. The smaller man looked like he wasn't quite certain he liked the thoughtful look. Rayden nodded. He gestured and the smaller god's dress changed. He looked down and frowned himself.

"You don't think this makes me look a bit much?" His robes had been replaced with a black and white pattern a later time would recognize as Harlequin diamonds. A black mask obscured the upper half of his face. 

"No. I think you look like a god who might supplant a false one. Who might lead these people away from their Sha Ka."

"Ah. As in -"

"As in lead them away from this city and power nexus, break the contact between OutWorld and EarthRealm."

"And I get?"

"Worshippers, believers, someone to play with." The words were innocent enough, although the underlying meanings could be read as somewhat sinister. 

Still, given the paucity of believers he'd had lately, Decer took it under consideration. "OK. I can handle this." 

"Good. Get them out of the city."

"Ah -yes. Bye." Twinkle.

Inside the city, the demoralized worshippers of Shao Kahn were suddenly blessed with the appearance of a new god - or maybe an old god in a new guise. It was hard to tell. Yet the words and actions of the masked one were those of promise. As their ancestors had been brought together and moved, so they were brought together and they would move. The time of promise was not yet here. One phase of their testing had come and gone; a new one would begin now. 

Within days, the city stood empty, desolate. There was no one to witness its destruction as Rayden took stone to sand and flattened the area. No, not quite true. There was one witness. Omegis. She sat at a safe distance and watched as the city became nothing and less than nothing. Stone thrust up through the sand, filling the valley. A couple of Earth bound deities considered protesting, but decided against it. The changes weren't really doing any damage and Rayden was not in the mood to be understanding. Storm gods, always so hot headed.

Finally, Rayden sat on the top of one of the stone cliffs that had circled the city and stared at his handiwork. It didn't help. Once again, he was alone with his thoughts, his memories. The woman who had brought him back to change the history of his Realm had warned him this would happen, but it didn't make it any easier. Who did a god turn to for healing?

He heard a step on the rock behind him. He froze. A slender, well formed hand touched his shoulder as the sorceress knelt beside him. He turned his head to look at her. She could sense his hurt. Shao Kahn had taken so much from her. Immortality at Tshang Sung's side had appealed; alone, it was devastating. Yet Shao Kahn had take far more from Rayden. Oddly, Omegis had a sudden sense of double vision. The world she knew and the world as it had been before Rayden set it on a better path. Instinctively, she slid her arms around the god and held him, a sense of wonder and awe building within her. 

For a moment, he was stiff and unyielding. Omegis was - He shuddered. No, Omegis had never been one of Shao Kahn's minions. He yielded to her warmth, her offer of comfort. She hadn't planned on taking a god home with her, but the rock was not hospitable to other thoughts she was having.

A part of Rayden knew he needed to go to Zhou Zhin and reassure the trio there. Just, not yet. Besides, there were ways of thanking Omegis that didn't include relieving her of her immortality.


	8. Chapter 8

The Mines  
Epilogue

Omegis stood in the doorway of her home watching her guest sleep. Rayden looked exhausted. She smiled. Well, considering the night they had spent, he should. A shadow crossed her face as she remembered it. He had been the gentlest and most thorough of lovers, sensing her pleasure, yet never seeming to invade to find out what she wanted. His exploration of her exquisite body had been exhilarating, exhaustive, incredibly satisfying. And yet -- she was uncertain about him. He had deftly forestalled most of her own exploration of her partner by taking her places her body wanted to go. She was becoming aroused again just thinking about his hot mouth on hers, on her throat, tracing kisses across her skin, sucking and nibbling on her breasts, the sensitive nipples proudly erect and inviting. And then the trail of heat his tongue had traced down the skin of her belly until it dove between her lips to find the engorged seat of her womanhood. How many times had he sent her over the brink into shuddering ecstasy? And then he had entered her and joined her and -- well, she and Tshang Sung had shaken the earth a few times -- but with Rayden it seemed more like the universe had swelled and shaken with them. She smoothed a hand across the skin of her taut belly. Could she conceive? Was she afraid she had? Or was she regretful that she suspected he had prevented it?

He shifted in his sleep, frowning, curling inward on himself. Omegis frowned. There was something wrong here. No, Rayden had not surrendered himself during their lovemaking. He had made certain she lacked nothing, never realizing that if he was not completely with her, that in itself was a lack of completion. The hut shook. Wind? No. She looked to the sleeping god. Oh, no. She knew that tight, withdrawn look on a sleeping face. How often had her father worn that look when she was a child. He had survived a king's torturers, an innocent man accused of a crime. He had returned to his family, exonerated. A sorcerer had healed the damage to him, but it had never left his mind.

Gently, Omegis lowered herself to the bed beside the god. Her gown shimmered and was gone leaving only bare golden skin, softly scented of cinnamon and spices. She touched Rayden. He pulled away, growling in his sleep.

"Rayden." His eyes snapped open, black with terror, his hands moving up in faltering defense. "It's all right. You're safe. I'm here," she continued softly, echoing the words of a woman she would never meet. He focused on her. He quelled the instinct to vanish and remained where he was. She reached out and touched him, gently pulled his face up to look at her, leaned down and kissed him. It was a soft, sweet kiss. She was ready for his response, whatever it was. He waited a heartbeat, and then his mouth softened under hers. Their lips parted, tongues explored, Omegis slid down beside him, her skin soft against his. He trembled. She pulled him to her, keeping her touch light, measuring her length against his. Her curves fit nicely against him. His arms went around her and the kiss deepened. Her hands explored his back, sliding from his well muscled shoulders, down his back to the curve of his ass. He stiffened slightly at her touch, then seemed to force himself to relax. This was Omegis, not - 

They broke for air. Omegis rolled him over onto his back. She straddled him, sitting up, her breasts golden mounds in the soft light. She stretched. Yes, she had his full attention. She could tell as he swelled against the cheeks of her ass. She reached for a small vial, poured some scentless oil on her hands and then ran them over Rayden's chest. The oil warmed on her hands and on his skin, relaxing him. She returned to her exploration of her lover's body using her fingers, her tongue, her lips to arouse him. A sly grin curved her full mouth. As though he needed all that encouragement. She lifted up and brought the head of his penis to her opening. With one swift movement, she slid down him, their pubic hairs intertwining as she felt a wonderful surge of desire. They fit as though made for each other. She worked up and down on his shaft, coating him with her sweet juices and sending him into a need he usually ignored. He pulled her down so his mouth could reach hers, flattening her breasts against his sweat slicked chest.

They rolled over, Omegis, her hair fanned out about her head, looking up into the passion of a god. That could be a really scary place to go, but not right now. His thrusts came faster, building tempo, she matched his rhythm, driving them both deeper and deeper into desire and need. Again she slid her hands down his back until she lightly cupped the smooth cheeks of his ass. This time, there was no stiffening, he was relaxed, in need. She sensed he was very close to -- an orgasm that shook the roots of time. Her own caught her off guard and carried them both over into the delicious body shaking spasm that was completion. Her legs wrapped around his hips, she held him to her as tightly as though she would never let him go.

They slept. They dreamed. 

Omegis found herself in Shao Kahn's palace. She shuddered. No. This was not a place she wanted to be. She heard someone sobbing. No, not a place she -- she stopped even as she started to try to find a way out. Words. This was a stupid place to get brave, she thought as she moved cautiously toward the sound. A doorway. A small but sumptuously furnished bedroom. Mostly bed, she observed. Oh, shit! She suddenly recognized the sword negligently propped against one of the chairs, a chair on which had been tossed leather armor. What the ---? She could not believe it was Shao Kahn's quarters. Besides, who would be -- Omegis gave that question the short shrift it deserved. Almost anyone in Shao Kahn's quarters could be sobbing. The Emperor was not renowned as a gentle lover. 

Low laughter. A dark, strong hand stroked his companion's hair, then grabbed a handful of it, pulling the other's head up. "Get used to it," the Emperor's deep tones came to her clearly. "Get used to it." He released the hair and rolled off the bed. Omegis faded back into the shadows, her mind awhirl. The hair in his hand had been pale against his skin, almost white.

An incoherent string of syllables brought her wide awake. Pale hair clung to the side of Rayden's face, plastered there by sweat. He groaned in his sleep. Her eyes widened in sudden comprehension. The Emperor's pleasure. From somewhere deep inside, Omegis felt both anger and great sorrow for someone else. She had never felt that Tshang Sung had been taken from her, he just left because he was too impatient to follow the rules. Her anger had been at Tshang Sung, not the Emperor. But this -- now she was angry. She shifted closer to Rayden, her arms stealing across his side to settle a hand on his chest. She murmured comforting words in his ear. He relaxed into her embrace. She smiled and settled against him. It was a gentle smile. No, she couldn't keep him, but she could help, and that seemed worth everything she had seen and done.


End file.
